Short Change Hero: The Case of Delmonico
by 0atis
Summary: A sequel to Short Change Hero. After the evens a year before Brittany and Santana are leading an ideal life, or so Santana seems determined to think. Unfortunately her ability to examine the situation is complicated by her new job and more than one interesting case.
1. Chapter 1

Rachel looked tentatively up at Brittany. The tall blonde was focused on the task at hand and wasn't paying attention to anything else. At least Rachel didn't think so. With Brittany it was impossible to tell and a lot was riding on the next few moments.

Succeed or fail, everything was going to change.

A quick reassessment assured her that Brittany had no weapons; a nervous shuffle of her leg reminded her of the knife holstered in her boot and the more easily accessible one tucked in her pants. If she were very casual, she was sure she could get to it without being noticed, but again she had no idea how aware Brittany actually was of her surroundings.

Sweat began to form on her brow as the tall blonde began to finish her task on the console before her, a few more button presses and it would be done. The job would be finished and Brittany would have no reason to look elsewhere, and she knew there was no way in hell she could win if they were face to face. One deep, quiet breath later her hand was on the hilt of her knife and she waited, her eyes and ears sharp for her cue and when Brittany smiled and said, "That should do it," she struck.

Never in her life had Rachel moved as quickly as she did in that moment, the knife was out of its hiding spot and slicing through the air straight towards Brittany's jugular. Unfortunately it missed spectacularly.

Rachel leapt back instinctively knowing that retaliation was coming swiftly, though most of her speed was brought forth by the fact that she had suspected she was going to miss. She knew the attack was coming, even braced for it, but still she reeled backwards when a sharp kick caught her in the gut. Knowing better than to simply stagger backwards she jumped out of the way as if a moving car was coming and only the telltale sound of something whistling through the air told her it had been the right move. Unfortunately Brittany's long legs weren't just for show, they were deadly weapons and excellent gap closers.

Before Rachel could truly get her bearings Brittany had her on the ground, those blue eyes sharp and dangerous. This was the side of her that was frightening, the part that Santana never seemed to see, the part she wanted to save her friend from…

Desperate, she planted her feet and pulled herself under, then behind the other woman before her full weight could pin her down. Knowing this was her absolute last chance she scrambled to her feet and dove at Brittany's back, her knife aimed at the back of her neck. With the speed of a greased viper the blonde spun around caught Rachel's hands before she could even get close. However, her momentum overcame the block and she found herself pressed against Brittany's crossed forearms, the tip of her blade mere millimeters from piercing flesh.

For a moment there were no words, only heavy breaths as each woman struggled to overcome the other, neither willing to jockey for a better position lest they lose some of the ground they had. Brittany didn't plead, or ask why, she just stared straight into Rachel's eyes with that same murderous glare, a look that convinced Rachel all the more that she was doing the right thing.

Unfortunately for her, conviction didn't prepare her for Brittany suddenly letting her arms go. The weight she had been forcing onto the knife made her stab into the grated floor, knowing there was no way to get the knife free and also defend herself she spun around and grabbed the knife in her boot while her opponent went for the one she had discarded. Again the smaller woman moved with a deft speed she had never managed before, and again Brittany matched her.

Rachel barely brought up the knife in time to keep Brittany from cutting her throat.

Once again they just stared eye to eye, but this time the blonde's gaze softened.

"I don't want to kill you, it would make Santana sad," she said, her tone implying that though she didn't want to do it she would without any hesitation if Rachel pushed.

Knowing she had lost she released her grip on her knife just enough to let Brittany know it was over. Message receive the taller woman stood and threw the knife aside watching her assailant with cold eyes.

Rachel climbed clumsily to her feet and collected her weapons, knowing how useless they were in her hands versus Brittany. She wanted to keep fighting, even if she didn't win, maybe her death would open Santana's eyes to what Brittany was.

But Quinn…

The thought of her girlfriend made her stop being reckless; it was over, she knew now she couldn't win.

"You are the worst thing to ever happen to her you know."

Brittany didn't respond, she just stared hard at Rachel before she turned around and walked away.

"Really? You have nothing to say?"

Brittany turned and looked at her with sad eyes, "l love her and she loves me. The rest doesn't concern you."

Rachel felt her blood boil, "Except it does! When my best friend is throwing away her fucking humanity for someone who can't be bothered to care, it concerns me! You are a goddamn emotional vampire and she doesn't have anything left! I'd rather kill you and watch her mourn than let you keep on treating her this way."

Anger momentarily filled Brittany's soft features, "Are you going to be a problem for the rest of this mission or do I need to finish what you started?"

There was nothing quite as painful as swallowing pride for Rachel Berry, but she knew there was no chance to do what she had planned. When they got their guns back Brittany was going to be on the alert and, as painful as it was to admit it, she was much faster on the draw and far more accurate.

With a heavy sigh she waved ahead, "After you."

As much as she had intended for her comment to be facetious it still crushed her ego to watch the other woman confidently turn and walk away not at all caring that her back was completely open.

* * *

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

"To the two best damn detectives that the world has ever seen!" shouted Puck over the roar of the club's blaring music.

The toast was followed by cheers and applause from the crowd at and around the table. It was after hours and the majority of the 6th precinct were gathered at an upscale night club in order to congratulate Rachel and Santana for making Detective. For Rachel it was a momentous occasion meant for people of all walks of life to celebrate. For Santana it was free beer and an excuse for Brittany to pamper her.

Rachel sat next to Quinn who looked happy, but in the forced sort of way that told Santana that she'd never really gotten over not being consulted. For half a second she thought about sticking her nose in that hornets' nest and just as quickly dismissed the idea, instead she turned to her ecstatic girlfriend who just couldn't seem to stop smiling and gave her a kiss.

"You're a detective in the big city!" Brittany giggled, "How does it feel?"

Santana just smirked, "Just looking forward to the arrests I get to make later tonight-"

"Drink run!" Puck shouted lifting her bodily from her spot in the booth and onto the floor behind it, "Need drinks and need em now."

"We just did a toast!" Santana protested, "Everyone has full beers!"

"True, but they won't be in like ten seconds, mine's already gone 'cause a proper toast ends when you chug your drink, besides I want shots."

"I can't even drink like that tonight, Britt has an interview tomorrow and I have work in the morning, so do you for that matter. Which means you interrupted me making out with the hottest girl here to get you shots no one needs!" she snapped, her temper starting to flair.

"I'll return her for girl kisses in a second," he threw out quickly to the pouting blonde before turning them both away and walking her to the bar. "Come on Santana don't dry up on me now, you spent the past year running your ass off at work and home, tonight you party with us. You don't have to get wasted, just a few friendly beers, a couple of shots, some light dancing, and then home."

Straightening her clothes back out she frowned heavily, resigned to actually have to be social at this event, "Fine, but pick me up like that again Puckerman and I will actually castrate you."

"There is no one I would rather give the honor to," he said genuinely with a huge grin.

She eyed their destination warily, "Are you about to try and make me pay for drinks at my own party?"

"Hell no!" he exclaimed, looking scandalized, "Just need help carrying them back to the table, I mean, I wouldn't even ask you to do that, but if I left you with Brittany I'd come back to, Quinn pretending not to sulk and Rachel pretending not to notice Quinn pretending not to sulk."

"You saw that too?"

"I am more sensitive to the feelings of others than my reputation would lead you to believe."

It would have been easy to refute that comment and cut him down to size while at it, but as of late Santana had been working hard on being less aggressive towards friends, a track Emma had painstakingly put her on, so she instead kept the thought in her head and nodded.

"Okay, so I know you aren't exactly swimming in cash so who is funding this party train?"

As if by magic Puck reached out his arm and pulled Sam out of the crowd, "This guy would be glad to sponsor your first drink. Especially since he missed the toast."

His face immediately reddened, "I told you to wait till I got back from the bathroom!"

"So next round's on you right?"

"Yeah, uh, sure," he said, clearly torn between wanting to do something nice for Santana and standing up to Puck.

When he turned to flag down a bartender Santana laughed, "Give him a break, you know he's too nice to be able to deal with you."

She could see the cocky response all lined up, but all three of them were interrupted by the most awkward man they had ever seen walking up and pushing Santana and Puck out of the way before rudely intercepting the bartender Sam had just managed to get the attention of.

"Eight gin and tonics for the VIP room," the man said, a bit louder than necessary, as if announcing his drinks were for a VIP might get him out of being yelled at by the patrons he had inconvenienced. The man was short and stocky with brown skin and neat black hair, he wore a dress shirt and slacks that were obviously expensive at a glance, not to mention the watch that bedazzled his thick wrist. Unfortunately he also had a face that seemed to scream loser, like if Droopy Dog had a human counterpart.

"Hey buddy, I'm going to need you to wait your turn," Puck said in the jovial tone he took when he was trying to keep the mood light, but willing to be serious in a heartbeat.

The man was fiddling with his iPhone while pretending he couldn't hear Puck. Santana knew he was pretending because all he was doing was scrolling endlessly between three pages of apps on his phone. When he didn't answer, Puck took a menacing step forward, his chest out and his Cop Face on.

"Yo! Little Man! Imma need you to turn around and acknowledge that you heard me."

When the man merely turned his back to them even more, Santana stepped in and pushed her friend back before there was another lawsuit on his file. Even with Zi there was only so much she could do about his pending trials and he really and truly did not need this.

"It's not worth it," she said, "This dude is clearly trying to impress some doe eyed bimbo and even with a ton of money it can't be easy to get girls to come near that mug, let him get his drinks before she comes to her senses and runs off."

There had been no need to be that mean, but the man had pissed her off and she had been holding her tongue for weeks now, it felt good to let a little spite out every once in a while.

Her answer seemed to sate him so Puck tucked the attitude and backed off, soon enough the bartender returned with the man's drinks and he turned to scurry off but not before turning to them and saying, "Drinks aren't for me," under his breath.

The words had luckily come during a lull in the music or no one would have heard him, and she suspected by the way he ran off afterwards that was what he had planned on.

Watching the man run off Puck scowled, "What an ass."

Without further incident they were able to order their drinks and bring them back to the table where, as Puck had predicted, everyone had already finished their first round. Santana returned to her spot next to Brittany, where she worked hard to maintain a balance of casual conversation and quick make out sessions with the woman at her side, who seemed more than a little ready for the trip home.

As the night went on and drinks kept flowing everyone became more relaxed and talkative, inhibitions were dropped, Santana was sure she had even seen Mike making out with Mercedes at one point. She was taking care to pace herself with drinks but with Rachel downing them like water, it was hard to stay reserved and soon she drank just enough to convince herself that hangovers weren't as bad as she was remembering and drank some more. Overall she felt the evening was going quite well, except for Quinn, who, despite her girlfriend being shitfaced and grinding up on Matt on the dance floor, was sitting rigidly in the same spot she had been in all night.

Once again Santana resolved to mind her own business, she didn't need to know what had Fabray's panties in a knot and moreover she didn't care.

Then as if reading her thoughts Brittany's nose nuzzled behind her ear, "You should go talk to her."

"No, tonight isn't about Rachel, Quinn or their weird pasty relationship."

Brittany's lips replaced her nose and Santana quivered, "It is kinda about Rachel actually and it really turns me on to see you being nice to your friends."

"How-" but she stopped herself, she had discovered long ago that Brittany had a lengthy and bizarre list of turn-ons and there was no point in trying to discover the reasoning behind this one.

Before she could give a proper reply Sam appeared and sat next to the sullen Sergeant, with a sigh of relief Santana sat back in her seat, "Look, Sam's all over it. I'm not the only person she knows."

"That's too bad, and I was going to let you leave me in handcuffs all night," Brittany hummed whimsically.

That damn near made her leap up, push Sam out of the way, and listen to every grievance Quinn ever had. It had been a dream of hers to make it through one night of roleplay without Brittany somehow escaping her cuffs and maneuvering Santana into them using a technique the brunette could never seem to remember the morning after.

Unfortunately, before she could initiate her completely self-centered mission of good will, someone else broke up the quiet talk Sam and Quinn were having. It was a woman, a much older woman who looked like she was in her late thirties/early forties, wearing clothes and jewelry that belonged on a twenty year old… a slutty twenty year old. Her hair looked like it had been bleached one too many times and despite the frequency with which she obviously did it, her dark roots could still be seen. She seemed like she might have even been attractive, but all her tacky makeup made it hard to tell. The only thing more obvious than her desperation to be noticed was how drunk she was, she barely had a grip on the drink she had in her left hand while her right seemed to be attempting to stroke Sam's face, in reality it looked like she was trying to draw a puppy on his cheek with a finger.

"Hey cutie, wanna… wanna come home with me?"

Both Sam, Quinn, Santana and Brittany all sat in total surprise for a long time, the woman took their silence as the wrong kind of surprised and winked at Quinn, "Don wurry honee you'll get anoderone, but if you'd put on more makup you wouldn'ta lost this one. Thas free advice."

Santana had the mother of all internal fights because Quinn's face was turning red and it made her want to laugh SO bad, but this woman was being even more rude than the man had been and she really wanted to put her in her place. Then, again, before anyone could properly react, the strange, short man from the bar appeared looking apologetic as he led the drunk, staggering woman away while she protested uselessly.

The four all just stared at each other in silence before they all burst out in genuine heartfelt laughter, even Quinn.

* * *

Santana woke with a start, her eyes snapped open, she took a deep gulp of morning air and almost immediately regretted it. The light felt like a nail gun had been fired through her eyes and into the back of her head and the deep breath just meant she went into a coughing fit as she rode out the pain. The coughing made her realize, with a sad forlorn sigh, that she was cuffed to the bed.

"Every time," she muttered as she tested to see if she could slip her hands out, she could not, and furthermore they had made her right hand fall asleep and put red marks on both. Then she remembered she no longer had to report to her old desk, meaning she wouldn't have to wear long sleeves in the summer to hide them from Puck.

Finally, when her brain began to fire on all cylinders she recalled it was her first day to report into the North building as a full blown detective. And as much as she didn't really care where she worked or who she worked for, the effort she'd had to put in to get the position was unreal, mostly because Rachel wanted everything more perfect than the station did, and she would be damned if she fucked all that up by being late on her first day.

"Britt!" she called, praying her girlfriend hadn't left on one of her spontaneous shopping trips.

To her surprise a head shot up next to her from the floor, Brittany was naked, her hair completely disheveled, but she was there.

"Yeah?" she asked in alarm.

"What time is it? I have to go to work!" Santana asked, her head swiveling all around trying to find some device to tell her the time.

Brittany laughed and sat up, "Don't worry, I wouldn't let you be late on your first day, besides I have an interview today, so I was extra sure to set the alarm."

"Can you get me out of these?" she asked tugging on her restraints, "My hand is numb."

Those words turned her expression to apologetic, there had been many talks about handcuff etiquette and leaving the handcuffee hanging over night was on the no-no list. Then again there was also a rule about no restraints when they were drunk that neither of them had followed so Santana couldn't find it in her to try and throw blame around.

"Uh, I think I lost the key…" Brittany said as she looked around.

"Britt!"

"Don't worry, I can get you out," she said and did just that in almost an instant.

Santana rubbed her wrist while looking quizzically at the handcuffs dangling from her hand, "How did you-"

Evasive as always about her escape techniques, Brittany leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "Don't want to be late," she chirped before rushing off to the bathroom.

Santana stood slowly, still trying to get the feeling back in her fingers while peering at the world through squinted eyes, "You never did tell me what time it is."

Her head popped out of the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, "Sebin firdy,"

With no small amount of effort, Santana hauled herself out of bed and to the bathroom trying her best to navigate through squinting eyes, "I should have never gone to that party."

"Aw come on it was fun!" Brittany said, leaving the other woman to wonder how she could be so happy.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Santana realized that no amount of concealer was going to hide the fact that she had partied hard the night before. Instead of worrying about it, she cleaned up, slapped on the basic amount of makeup needed to be presentable and made a bee line for her coffee maker.

Three frustrating minutes later she was glowering over a steaming mug of mud flavored fuel as she watched Brittany bound around the kitchen doing… something. She wasn't sure what exactly and the coffee hadn't given her the ability to ask without sounding surly yet, but there was food involved. That worried her.

Enough so that she dared to try and inquire, her plan was to throw in a term of endearment to offset the gruffness that was still in her voice and the frown she knew was etched deep into her brow, "Babe, what are you doing?"

"Making you lunch."

A rolling growl that was supposed to be a 'hmmm' came out, "You don't have to do that."

"I know, but I want to."

There wasn't enough caffeine in her system yet to try and come up with a plan to keep her from doing that without sounding like an asshole so she simply resolved to not eat whatever it was should it prove to be, as she suspected, completely inedible.

As she watched Brittany pack what could only be a drink cooler with the amount she was putting in it, she started to truly wake up and managed her first sentence without sounding like an angry chain smoker, "Where will you be applying today?"

"Some simple security work," Brittany replied airily.

Santana's natural morning frown hadn't gone away yet and this answer only made it deepen, every job she had taken prior had been dancing or fashion related, and there had been plenty. She hadn't been aware that Brittany was walking away from those pursuits entirely, though it wasn't exactly surprising. Though Zi had made it possible to give her a wide range of skills and fake diplomas from real colleges, it hadn't been able to change the fact that work was hard, Brittany liked to do things at her own pace and the professional world wanted its own way. She quit every one of her previous jobs due to burnout and as her girlfriend it had been hard to watch her get sick of things she loved. The change was needed but the specifics of it confused her, if she meant security as in a security guard then that was a terrible idea, she was so easily distracted and disliked staying in one spot for too long.

"Security? I mean I know you used to work for the government, but is that really what you want to do? Guard a building all day?"

"Oh I'm not doing anything like that," she laughed and Santana had a miniature heart attack.

"Please don't tell me you actually applied back at the CIA!"

A soft chuckle was the only reply that she got for a moment while her heart beat crazily in her chest, "No, I know I can't do that, I'm just doing some consulting work."

"Oh," she hid a sigh of relief, downed the rest of her coffee and got ready to leave, but not before getting a goodbye kiss and the now confirmed ice cooler lunch box that felt like it was full of canned goods.

On her way out to her car she eyed Brittany's Kawasaki parked adjacent to her spot, she considered for a moment being a badass and pulling up to the station on a sweet Kill Bill-yellow bike, but she thought better of it. Sure Brittany wouldn't mind, unfortunately if the bike was gone she would have to drive Santana's car and since the woman seemed to lose all motor control when a clutch was involved, she opted to just be a badass in a '67 Dodge.

A brief car ride later, she was standing at the door of her new home away from home, and somehow it made her nervous. She hadn't actually bothered to research anyone she would be working with or listen to Rachel when she started rambling about them. All she knew was where to report and that was all that mattered.

When she made it to her new desk she found it already tagged with an elegant nameplate that read Detective Lopez, and next to it the woman who she was sure had bought the thing. Rachel sat across from her laying face down on her own labeled desk, looking like someone ran her over with a truck.

A little surprised Ms. Mornings wasn't chattering away, she contemplated the pros and cons to trying to correct that when dealing with a person that carried such a title, but the decision was taken from her when Rachel turned around where Santana could tell she truly looked like death.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, too surprised to cushion the question.

Rachel yawned and sat back looking miserable, "Too much to drink last night."

"I, uh, saw you hitting the bottle a little hard," and once more there was a nagging need to ask what was wrong, but this time it was paired with an unusual curiosity about what could have robbed her partner of joy on what should have literally been the happiest moment of her life. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, regretting the question before she asked it, "Rachel what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she grumbled, offering the only response that could top her sullen mood in oddness.

"It is insanely obvious that is a lie, but if you don't want to talk about it that's your choice, I won't push."

Sitting up with great effort Rachel checked her watch and rubbed her eyes, "We need to report in to the DCO."

"The wha…"

With a sigh that was more commonly heard from Santana, Rachel said, "The Deputy Commissioner of Operations."

"Uh-huh you could just called him 'boss'."

There was another belabored sigh, "Yeah, well whatever lets go."

Santana decided that, despite her complaints, she liked peppy Rachel a lot better than sulky Rachel.

Together they walked the short distance to the door at the front of the room and knocked, a brisk 'Come in!' came back to them and they did just that. Inside Santana saw an office that looked more like a shrine than anything, it wasn't unusual for superiors at the precinct to have pictures of themselves, hell Sylvester had a painted portrait behind her desk and had recently had an entire mural of herself at various points in her career painted in her coat closet. This was something else entirely.

Maybe it was because all the awards, trophies and certificates that littered every surface were for things that had nothing to do with police work, or it could have been because none of them were dated past 1998, whatever it was, the entire room emanated the very essence of the term 'washed up'. In the simple chair placed at the center of the sad scenery was a man who looked every bit as washed up as his tribute to himself implied.

"Good Morning Deputy Schuester, Detectives Berry and Lopez reporting in for our first day."

"Really? No Deputy Commissioner of Operations Schuester?" Santana muttered under her breath, Rachel ignored her.

Yeah she definitely preferred the peppy Rachel, way more fun to tease.

"Good morning ladies," he replied.

Beside her Rachel tensed and she knew it was because she was expecting to be addressed in a more professional manner. As suspected she said nothing of the slight and waited patiently for him to continue but he didn't, as a matter of fact they both just stood there for a while in silence.

Carefully clearing her throat Rachel opened her mouth to say something, however at that moment Schuester spoke again, "Welcome to narcotics, I trust you are well read on the entry material?" Santana was not, but Rachel was too busy nodding overzealously for him to notice her slight shake of the head."Excellent, I will introduce you to the rest of this unit as they arrive, we have a major ongoing case I want you on and all pertinent information will be discussed when we are all together. I hope you enjoy your time here and please never hesitate to ask me for anything."

"I do have a question, what time is our briefing?" Rachel asked.

The Deputy looked at her with a level gaze, "I thought you said you read the entry material…"

She couldn't have looked more offended if he had accused her of having public sex with a wounded animal, "I most certainly did, but it did not detail a time to meet should co-workers be late to their posts." Her voice was terse while managing to also be polite; Santana was quietly impressed with her acrimonious reply.

He frowned a little as if he did not understand her point, then, after a moment of thought seemed to relax, "Well no problem, we meet at twelve."

With a nod that bordered on churlish Rachel turned to leave followed by her amused partner who didn't say a single word until they were back at their desks. Rachel plopped heavily in her chair and sat with her chin on her crossed arms like a fuming child and Santana couldn't suppress a chuckle any longer.

"You know I fully expected you to be a tight little bundle of nerves on the first day, but this isn't too bad. I mean I don't want you to be unhappy every day, however if you can find a way to keep the attitude with superiors and lose the frowns you'll be a pretty well rounded officer. Might even take you out for a drink one night," she laughed. In response she heard a mutter that she couldn't understand, leaning forward she asked, "What?"

"Fuck this whole day," Rachel repeated.

"That's the spirit!"

Her brow darkened and suddenly she sat up kicking her desk fiercely, startling Santana, "Fuck Quinn's cryptic bullshit and fuck her for making me feel this way!"

"Okay here is where you want to reign it in-"

"I have wanted this since I signed up to be a cop and all she can do is sulk and act like I'm the bad guy!"

"Yeah, that can happen with her, but-"

"And the worst part is that I thought we had worked through it all, but then I try to have a serious talk with her about our future and she gets colder than ever!"

Santana winced at the grating quality of her rising voice, "You are at an eleven and imma need you to bring it down to like a two."

"What's going on over here?"

The question came from behind Santana and she knew two things upon hearing it; the person was male and whoever it was she would not like him. Turning around confirmed both suspicions, the person was indeed male, a tall lanky redhead with more freckles than brain cells, if his askew goofy grin was anything to go by. Though he wasn't necessarily offensive to look at she disliked him on sight, something about his bearing, be it the grin or his crisp clothing, reminded her of Artie.

Despite all this she decided not to allow Rachel to actually ruin her first day by mouthing off to senior detectives so she answered first, "Nothing, just a friendly discussion," she said hoping that would be the end of it.

He entered their small cubicle space with a chuckle and she rolled her eyes at herself for ever thinking anything could ever be that easy.

Walking in between them he glanced at Rachel before looking at Santana, "Let me guess, that one's having lady troubles?"

The question was so jarringly rude it forced the response, "Who the fuck are you?"

His eyebrows went up, "Woof, not the only one I see. I'm Detective Nelson, you can feel free to call me that or by my nickname-"

"Which is Mr. Colossal Bonehead," came a much kinder voice from behind Nelson.

Both women glanced up to see a ridiculously handsome man walk up and pull the first from his spot between them.

"My apologies for my partner, he can be amazingly stupid sometimes and I just can't be everywhere at once to keep it from leaking out," he seemed genuinely embarrassed and apologetic for his partner.

Once more startled by this display, Santana found herself at a slight loss for words, "Lopez," she offered extending her hand, which he shook firmly. She then jerked her head towards the other woman who still seemed to be deciding whether or not to lay into the dejected looking redhead, "Berry."

"Brody Weston," he said, needlessly gesturing to himself, "You can call me Brody, most people here do, or Weston if that's too familiar," he laughed.

In the glow that was his bright smile, Santana had to admit that if she wasn't in a relationship and a lesbian she would have snatched him up, regardless of what his current romantic situation was. A quick glance at Rachel told her the brunette was thinking the same thing.

Santana had a true dilemma, she wanted, no, needed to be snarky to this entirely too happy co-worker for a number of reasons. She didn't need him thinking he had a snowballs chance in hell of dating her, enough time on the force taught her that rebuffs were seen as signals to come back later, furthermore she needed to establish her dominance. Nevermind her sexual orientation, her gender was what got her trashed the most coming up through the academy and even the nicest men were guilty of thinking that she was somehow less than them no matter the situation. Better to let him know where he stood now, rather than have him think she was going to call him Sir later in front of other officers or civilians.

But he had been really nice.

Deciding to split the difference she returned his smile, "Detective Brody it is, but that's a mouthful so how's Dib?" he gave a bemused grin but before he could reply she went on, rounding on Nelson, "I also think Detective Nelson is too long so I'll just shorten it to Asshat. And by the way if you ever speak to me about something that does not directly pertain to our case, I will slap those freckles off your face before you can finish making whatever moronic statement you're planning on."

Nelson frowned and looked like he wanted to challenge that threat, but when Brody made no move to back him up he just nodded meekly.

"Pleasantries out of the way would you ladies like to be briefed on our case?" Brody asked.

Finally Rachel came to life, "Isn't Deputy Schuester supposed to do that?"

His eyebrows went up, "I'm assuming you've already met him. That man isn't exactly on the ball and has a habit of forgetting things and blaming it on everyone else for 'not doing their job'."

Rachel nodded and stood right away, "Where shall we discuss this?"

He gave her one of those winning smiles and lead the way to a nearby office, that Santana could only assume was a briefing room. Nelson tagged along behind, seeming to already know his place in the hierarchy. In case he didn't Santana was sure to peg him with a hard, challenging glare as he walked in the door and closed it.

Once everyone was seated, Brody booted up the computer at the front of the room and pulled up a document that proved him a smooth professional. He explained the entirety of the current case with a level of detail she hadn't seen since the last time Rachel had tried to make an outline for her. And once again her partner seemed to be on the same page, for a moment she considered the possibility of Rachel wandering back to the path of the straight and narrow so to speak but shrugged it off; she still firmly believed in staying way out of whatever was going on between her and Quinn. Besides, the subjects Brody was touching on were very serious in their nature, it seemed that an American citizen had found unprecedented success in drug trafficking in the states. Santana hadn't been paying enough attention to catch her name, but as Brody clicked through images of the drug ring's lieutenants and known affiliates, who oddly all seemed to be boys between the ages of 14 and 19, there came an image she recognized and her mouth fell open.

On the screen was the only male that looked an actual adult, a dark skinned man with a squashed depressed looking face. Like Droopy Dog on downers…

Brody kept going, having not noticed the expression on her face, but next to her Rachel interrupted, "Hold on, that man? The one back a slide or two, why is he so much older than the others? Are we sure he isn't the target?"

Going back he looked up at the image, "This guy? No," he chuckled, "This is Howard Bamboo, known for petty crimes up until now, as a matter of fact he used to be an informant for our brothers over in homicide. A street running bum until about a year ago, he vanished and came back on the scene looking like he had a six digit salary. The activity of this group predates his disappearance and besides that he doesn't exactly have the brains to be the brains. As far as we know he's just the middle man between Del Monico and the other drug traffickers."

Santana frowned, "Who?"

She expected Rachel to answer in her familiar know it all huffy tone, but instead the answer came from the door when Schuester stood glaring at the image of the woman Brody had just flipped to, "Del Monico, Terri Del Monico." He walked in and turned to the group seated in the room, "I see you got started without me."

"Thought I'd give you less to cover," Brody offered as he stepped away from the computer and sat at the desk next to Nelson.

The deputy looked at the image of the smiling woman and sighed, while Santana did another double take. It was the drunk woman from the bar, that was _definitely,_ without a doubt, the drunk woman from the bar. For the second time she tried to open her mouth to tell someone but once again something startled her out of it, this time it was Brittany strolling in the door.

"Ah well, Detective Weston if you would have waited you could have spared yourselves having to hear all this again because we have a guest that will be joining us for the duration of this investigation. This is Brittany Pierce."

Brittany stood forward and waved, being sure to send Santana a wink.

"Uh…" was Rachel's response.

"Security?" Santana asked lacking any other coherent response.

"The interview went well!" Brittany cheered.

Schuester nodded, "I should say it did, Ms. Peirce has a wealth of knowledge that will help us locate and apprehend this criminal and bring her whole organization to justice."

It did not feel good when she had to admit to herself that she didn't know if Brittany had lied to the man or not. She was skilled, but Santana wasn't aware of anything she could do that would be so helpful that she would be hired on the spot by narcotics officers with no confirmable background.

Then as if in answer to her internal question Schuester said, "Listen ladies," once again she felt Rachel cringe as her title was once again overlooked, "I'll be perfectly honest, this case is dead, all of your colleagues have been pulled onto other ones and it's only through a lot of begging, pleading and string pulling that I am allowed the four of you. Even then it's really only two since they decided it was my job to work with the new recruits. I need more people on this because as it is," he paused to point at the picture on the wall, "We have no idea where she even is."

Brittany laughed, "Santana and I saw her last night."

Everyone froze. For a long time the only sound Santana could hear was her ears ringing from all the blood rushing to her head.

"I'm sorry what? You saw her?" Brody asked.

She nodded, "Yeah, last night."

Rallying Santana figured full disclosure was the best option and decided to chime in, "That Bamboo guy too," she said through lips that were slowly becoming numb.

The various implications of Brittany being there, were making her more and more nervous and she couldn't even pinpoint why, because in her mind everything was being screamed at her at once. Schuester seemed thrilled, and Brittany clearly felt a sense of accomplishment, but the rest of the meeting Santana sat there plotting how to cover up whatever her girlfriend may have exposed in her eagerness to undertake a new profession. A task made easier when she understood the reason why Brody took the time to explain everything, since Schuester had a tendency to ramble and ask rhetorical questions about the subject he was covering, in a manner that made everyone wonder if he actually knew the answer.

When they finally got a break for lunch she had almost figured out how to get rid of Schuester without suspicion should he get too inquisitive about his new hire, but the finer details had to wait because between Brittany and Rachel, who walked at her sides, she couldn't think.

"Where's your lunch? We can eat together?" Brittany asked.

"-unbelievable! Every time we all group together we end up in the dead center of some fiasco- "

"I bet you were surprised, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to be sad if I didn't get the job-"

"-can't even seem to manage to call me detective even once! Even by accident!"

"Alright!" Santana snapped, her frayed nerves at an end, "Rachel if it bothers you so much just tell him, from this moment on any offense taken is entirely your fault because you won't speak up for yourself. I am going to have lunch with my girlfriend, so if you'll excuse me."

With that she pulled Brittany after her towards the parking lot where her car, and subsequently her lunch waited. Understanding this to be the chosen spot to eat, Brittany quickly entered the passenger side and began to rifle through the cooler. On the other side, much more slowly Santana walked around and sat in the driver's seat. Almost immediately she was handed a sandwich and she was just mentally exhausted enough to accept it and take a bite without caring about the ingredients. Con, it was mayo, pickles, baked beans and cucumber slices; pro, it actually wasn't that bad.

After finishing her first somehow pleasant and confusing bite she turned to Brittany, "What did you tell him?" she asked.

"Who about what?" came the immediate, happy reply as she turned to face her while sitting Indian style.

"Schuester, what did you tell him to make him hire you?"

"Um," she took another bite while she thought, her eyes turning to the roof with the effort, "That I was good at lots of different tasks and that I do really well with infiltration and recon."

"Are you?"

She shrugged, "Eh, I'm better with combat and triage."

"You're a medic?" this she hadn't known in the slightest. To be fair the only time it would have come up was when she herself was the patient, but there had just been no evidence to even imply that.

"Medic? No, the opposite of that, like when you trash stuff."

"Espionage?"

"That's the one."

"That was your job originally," she said to convince herself more than anything.

"It was," she confirmed, taking another bite.

"Did he ask for any papers, anything that might give away who you were before?"

"No, I just brought the papers you gave me to show people and I made up a resume, all the reference numbers go to my cell anyway and I do voices really well."

That Santana knew about, her fake accents were actually pretty good except for the fact that she always confused her dialects and cultural slang, "I guess that's fine," she said, and for the first time felt her muscles relax slightly.

"What other talents did you have?" she asked, knowing how dangerous it was, because she still couldn't stand it. She still couldn't stand to hear _his_ name.

"That was pretty much it. I mean I thought I was good at fashion but Kurt hated everything I put together, and nobody let me really try anything else."

Kurt's name had made her heart race because she feared what might come after, even though she wanted to ask more. As much as she wanted to know about the woman she loved, she had put herself in an impossible place, an observer on the outside who couldn't bear to look in. Not for the first time, she felt her heart ache and felt sorry for herself.

Brittany chewed more slowly, "What's wrong?"

Snapping out of her funk Santana shook her head and threw on a smile, "Nothing, just thinking about this case."

The blonde continued to stare at her until she finally finished her bite of sandwich, "It isn't nothing, you just don't want to tell me about it."

She seemed more hurt than upset and that made Santana focus, what was the point of putting herself through all this if she couldn't make Brittany happy?

Somehow willing her smile to be real she gave her girlfriend a reassuring kiss on the cheek and ran her fingers through blonde hair, "I am fine Britt, I promise."

That seemed to convince her more than the previous statement but Brittany looked worried nonetheless. Then she had a thought that made her feel like she might be going insane just for having it.

She needed to talk to Dr. Pillsbury.

* * *

It was with a detached fascination that Emma Pillsbury watched one of her most troublesome patients walk in and, for no good reason, berate the person currently sitting opposite her desk. The man was new to the force and was rather ironically seeing her because he found himself unable to assert himself to his fellow officers. She watched Santana say about three words to him that made his face turn red, but instead of complaining he gathered up his things and scurried out of the office.

As a doctor she had a few decisions to make.

Santana was way out of line, that was a given, and behavior such as that should never be rewarded; don't give the child having a tantrum the candy he's crying for. However, the idea of Santana Lopez purposefully setting foot into her office without being forced was such a tremendous breakthrough in their doctor patient relationship.

It was like being Anne Sullivan at the well and hearing Helen's first word to be 'cock'.

She would deal with the interruption later, that was something she was pretty sure she could correct. So instead of demanding she leave and apologize to her colleague, she allowed Santana to sit silently in front of her in a huff.

When three whole minutes passed and nothing was said between them Emma ventured to speak up, "Hello, Santana. I heard you recently made detective, congratulations." Upon receiving no response she added, "Is something on your mind?"

"No, I just like the look of your face," she snapped.

Emma sighed heavily, "We've talked about the insults, especially to people who are trying to help you."

"I know."

There was only one thing she knew of that could work Santana up into such a state.

The ever mysterious Brittany.

"How are things at home?"

Her eyes widened slightly, "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"What makes me think there is something wrong in your personal life when you come barging into my office when you aren't scheduled to see me for eight more weeks? Call it a hunch."

Truly she hated sarcasm, but Santana could bring it out in anyone.

"Things aren't going perfectly," she admitted and it obviously took some effort for her to do that.

"Alright, let's start with; why?"

Another silence followed, apparently it was hard for her to even talk about, "She's working here, at the precinct with me and I'm worried we might get sick of each other."

Emma would freely admit she wasn't the best in the world at her job, as a matter of fact when she first started, she almost had a panic attack in fear of being fired for being so bad at it. With time she had gotten better and at this moment she felt quite proud of herself because for the first time she was, with 100% certainty sure that Santana was full of shit.

"No, you're upset because you still haven't talked to her about your feelings concerning her ex. You know, that thing I've been telling you to do ever since you learned she had one."

Santana actually looked stunned by that and Emma felt her pride swell in her chest. For the first time ever she was going to look at her paycheck and really feel like she earned it.

"You know I can't," she grumbled, looking away.

"I don't know that. All I know is that you won't for reasons you refuse to explain."

"It's complicated," they both said at the same time, Emma already nodding her understanding.

Greedily wanting to make more progress Emma pressed on, "Let's get down to the basics here alright? You have a mystery reason that you won't talk to her about her ex or any time before you two met correct?" A slight nod made her continue, "So it simply comes down to this; is whatever is holding you back worth never truly loving her?"

The look Santana gave her made her want to grab her things and run out as fast as her last patient had.

"Don't. Don't you fucking dare imply I don't love that woman with all my heart."

Though she was sure she was risking death in doing so Emma shrugged, "How can you possibly say you love someone if you doggedly refuse to know who they are?"

Santana laughed, "This is so stupid! I know who she is!"

Another shrug, this one far more dramatic, but not so much so as to disturb the meticulously stacked papers on the edge of her desk, "Fine then tell me... where did she grow up?"

"What does that have to do with-"

"What are her parents names?" Santana fell silent and from the look on her face not only did she not know, but it hurt her badly that she didn't.

"Where did she go to college?"

A light appeared in her patient's eyes, as she leaned forward "She didn't go to college, she didn't even finish high school."

 _Then how did she get a job here?_ Emma thought suddenly, not letting her curiosity distract her she asked, "Why?"

Santana sat back again, "I don't know."

"You don't. And those are the basics. I'll go ahead and assume you don't know what her deepest fears are, or what memories are most precious to her. How can you claim to love her and want to protect her when you don't even know what she needs protecting from? Okay she didn't finish high school or go to college; does she wish she had? If so what would she major in?"

"Fashion or dancing I guess," she mumbled.

"But you don't know. And you should. So, again, is whatever keeps you from her worth it? If it is, I can't advise you any further without knowing the details."

Santana watched her with hard eyes before she sat up, the motion was so sudden Emma jumped a little, still fearing the other woman might lash out, "I can't stand the memory of him that lives in her, but I can't destroy it without hurting her."

The enigmatic, emotional answers were starting to grate on her nerves, "Of course there is. If she cares for you the way you care for her then he'll be pushed out of her mind entirely. Should you two stay together for the long term then at some point she will have been with you longer than him. So instead of wasting all this time sulking over his shadow create memories with the person you love. When she looks back on your time together she needs to see something worth remembering, not a distant, cold lover, but a close, warm life partner. Keep neglecting her in the ways that you are, you may one day wake up to find she's moved on to someone that can fulfill those needs."

Once more silence fell, but this time it was heavy and charged in a way that made Emma sit back and plant her feet in case she needed to run. She was pretty sure Santana wouldn't hurt her, but she didn't feel like taking any chances. Then without a word the newly appointed detective stood and stormed out of the room.

* * *

Hey all, been gone for a while. Hope to update this regularly, but life likes to fk me over. If you want to keep up with what's going on with updates just head over to my tumblr :)


	2. Chapter 2

Santana shuffled her laptop further down her leg to try and give some relief to her thigh. Whenever she ran Zi the machine got so hot she thought it was going to melt. Having saved herself from roasting she gave a deep sigh while, for what felt like the millionth time, rereading the resume she had made for Brittany. As intended, there was nothing that would lead anyone to know who or what she truly was, just some vague jobs in security and a high school diploma. There was nothing there that would make her a prime candidate for a job as a consultant with the NYPD. So why had Schuester hired her? Another huff escaped her and she clicked around randomly within the interface of Zi, thinking hard about what to do next, even though as far as she could tell there was nothing she could do. Another heaving sigh left her as she sat back in her chair and thought hard about her predicament. In her absent thoughts she open and closed random folders, one in particular, that she assumed was some sort of trash bin, had an icon of a cartoon secretary that did a little waving animation when hovered over. To her surprise it also gave a curtsy when clicked. She opened it a couple of times watching the animation play through, letting her worried thoughts drift. Then she spotted something that made her freeze.

There in the folder was a list of every illegal transaction she had made since acquiring the program, every edit she had made to a document, every person she had hired. Whatever this was, it kept track of everything. A spike of panic rushed through her, causing her to sit up in her chair. This was incriminating as hell, this was how to end up in jail for life 101. Quickly she scanned for some sort of permanent delete option and found one at the top of the screen in the form of the little animated secretary holding a shredder. Her mouse hovered over it and the comforting words; Permanently Delete All came up. Knowing the option was there, she relaxed a little and decided to give her past misdeeds a final once over. She saw every one of them spelled out before her in dollars and cents, and in a few cases photographs. All the information that she had gathered to use against those she would blackmail had all been recorded, she wasn't sure why, but it had. And then she noticed something even more interesting, it was keeping a running tab of things it had been used for before she'd gotten it. What was even more surprising was that it included all of the files that had been deleted from public and private records about the once infamous CIA agents, including Brittany herself.

There's a long moment where she sat not knowing what to do, it felt like an invasion of privacy, a breach of trust, to look into these files without permission. A shuffling from down the hall told her that Brittany was on the couch in the living room and would probably be there for awhile. There was nothing to keep her from looking, this was a free pass to find out all the things that had been troubling her. Deep down she knew it wasn't right, however looking at all the other things listed before her there were a lot of things she did that weren't right. For her own sanity she was willing to let this be one of them. Pushing aside feelings of guilt, she opened the folder labeled; Brittany.

Immediately she saw a gallery of photographs, some depicting a young Brittany in locations Santana could not identify. Others were merely of places that she had presumably interacted with in some way. Almost immediately she found some information that she had not known about the woman she was living with. Brittany had been born and raised in the Netherlands. The next thing she learned was that the blonde had been an orphan all her life. She had grown up in an orphanage that had closed when she was 12 and afterwards a well-to-do corporation had paid for the children to be brought to the states, where in classic rich person fashion they did not adopt the children but merely built a better orphanage for them to live in. Santana couldn't understand why someone with Brittany's looks wouldn't be adopted, and was even more confused to find that she had been, many times, only to always be returned, like some sort of unwanted knickknack. Once she turned 16 she left and there was almost nothing until she resurfaced again as a central intelligence agent. How in the hell that had happened wasn't apparent through any of the files she had access to.

Down the hall she heard Brittany shuffle again and her paranoia and guilt finally made her shut down the program and return the flash drive to its hiding spot. Afterwards she just stood stock still in her room trying to process what she had seen. Brittany was an orphan who had been abandoned again and again…

Only then did it hit her how much of an asshole she must have seemed like after all that shit she said about breaking things off with her parents when they first went out. It was flat out baffling that she hadn't walked away from the date immediately. Rubbing her head the only positive thing she could think of was that Artie hadn't come into the picture. With that thought her violation of privacy felt more like a mine sweep, all she had done was make sure the turf was safe to tread on. It was an encouraging thought even if it was one predicated on falsity, and with that she headed down the hall to greet her girlfriend and for once she was ready to talk about the past.

Brittany sat on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, watching something or other on Netflix. Not wanting to bother her, yet eager to talk Santana flopped noisily on the couch and tried to subtly indicate that she was bored by playing with the ends of Brittany's hair. Santana wasn't sure if it was because she lacked subtlety or because the other woman was very attuned to her wants, but Brittany almost immediately paused what she was watching and turned around.

Surprised Santana lay with her hand out holding nothing and feeling put on the spot, especially with Brittany's big blue eyes staring deep into her soul, "For our vacation I think I want to go somewhere cold," Brittany said suddenly.

All Santana could do was laugh, "Really? You've worked all of one day and you're already thinking about our vacation?"

"I have to, it needs to be planned."

Santana was about to say something else but then realized what the suggestion might have meant. Somewhere cold… did she want to return home? Shaking her head Santana decided then and there to stop playing guessing games, she was going to ask outright what she wanted to know about Brittany's past. Well up until about age 16, then it was back to guessing.

"Hey Britt, I've never asked about it before but where did you grow up?"

If she was surprised by the question she didn't show it, "An orphanage somewhere in Holland."

"So you're family was from the Netherlands?"

"No, I don't think so. I can't prove it cause I didn't really look into it but I was told my parents were from China."

Santana blinked uncomprehendingly, "China?"

"Yes," she said easily.

"So you're Chinese?"

"If my family lived there so, I guess, but I was told they moved to Holland and died a little while after, car crash I think."

Only Brittany could bring about such consternation in answering such a simple question, though she knew not everyone who lived in a country had to be descended from there. However before she could wrap her head completely around all the implications of this new discovery the other woman continued.

"When I was about eleven or twelve maybe…" Santana had to stop herself from filling in the blank, "anyway when I was young Artie's family bought out the orphanage."

The words couldn't have been more shockingly painful if they had been actual bullets fired from a gun, her jaw locked up and her brow furrowed but she did everything she could to keep from looking as bad as she felt.

"They did?"

"Yeah, they came by all the time with Artie, I think they wanted to adopt one of us but he was kind of a brat when he was younger, I don't think he wanted to share his parents."

Keeping her opinion of his older self inside she rubbed her hands over her eyes in an attempt to keep it together, "Yeah, okay, so why..." she paused realizing she was about to say something she shouldn't have known, "Were you ever adopted by anyone?"

"Yeah, a bunch of times, but I just ran away or did something weird or creepy to make the family take me back."

Frowning Santana asked a question that she was terrified might involve the man she hated, "Why?"

"There were about five others I had come with from Holland and they hadn't been adopted yet. I didn't want to leave them, plus I didn't really like the people that took me home. They were nice enough, but I, I don't know I just felt they wanted something from me I couldn't give them. Anyway after the last girl was adopted I just ran away from the orphanage."

Again she explained complex and emotional triumphs as if it was going to the store and picking up bread. How had she survived? Where had she lived? And most importantly how, with such a questionable past, did she end up a main operative in the CIA?

Though she suspected she knew how, "Artie helped you do that didn't he?"

She nodded, "After that I sort of followed him, kind of like you and Puck, he was my friend and whatever he did I did, his family being rich and stuff made it easy for me."

"Did you ever visit any of the other kids from the orphanage?"

Brittany shook her head, "At first I did, just to make sure they were alright. I think that's what made me good at being an agent," she said with a laugh, "I would sneak into the records office and find out where they went and go sneak off whenever I could. I would never actually talk to them, that seemed too sad, and we had already said goodbye. I would just watch and listen to make sure their new family was treating them right and when I saw them smile and laugh I would just move on."

"That's… incredibly selfless Brittany…"

She looked at Santana with an expression she had never seen before, it was utterly unreadable and it scared the smaller woman because it wasn't the usual look of love and adoration, it was an empty, hollow look.

"It wasn't."

Santana sat up and held Brittany's face in her hands, "Yes, it was. I don't think I know a single person who would be self sacrificing enough to do that for someone else, especially so young."

The strange look persisted and this time it was even more penetrating than before. Brittany seemed to be trying to tell her something with her eyes that her mouth was unable to convey.

Her hands covered Santana's on her cheeks and she looked deep into her girlfriend's eyes, "It wasn't selfless, I'm not selfless Santana, I make myself be a good application of it."

The moment was charged in a way that made her want to squirm, she had never seen Brittany so serious. She also had a sneaking suspicion that the word the other woman had been looking for was not application. Enough time around the blonde had made her rather adept at finding the right substitute when Brittany misused words, and the one that she felt was supposed to be there was approximation.

I make myself be a good approximation of it.

That wasn't true. It never had been, but if Brittany truly believed that…

It was all a little much, this wasn't the conversation she had planned to have and she was having enough trouble trying to work out what was wrong in her own mind. A sentiment she knew was a bit fucked, however she was a woman on the edge and this was all she could do to keep up appearances.

Instead of trying to suss out the root of her lovers pains or trying to express her own insecurities, she kissed Brittany with everything she had and hoped it would be enough. That somehow, what she felt could reach her and somehow be good enough.

Brittany kissed her back and even though it might have been Santana's wishful thinking she could have sworn that she felt that same desperation mirrored back at her.

* * *

For the second day in a row Santana showed up to her new assignment without Brittany, even though they were supposed to clock in at the same time. Inevitably the previous night's kiss had led to sex which left Brittany unwilling to rise. She had sent Santana on, swearing she'd be there on time.

It was unsettling that their talk had raised more questions than answers. She wasn't sure what it meant for their relationship, and the ever-in-denial part of her didn't want to know. So instead of getting ready for the day's work she sat at her desk watching Rachel sulk, both of them lost in thought rather than doing the mountain of HR paperwork that needed to be turned in.

Looking at the stack made her about as tired as trying to figure out what to do about all the emotional shit slamming around in her brain.

Then she woke right up when she saw the visual equivalent of a cold splash of water to the face. Lieutenant Sue Sylvester burst in the doors, followed closely by Commissioner Figgins, and made a beeline for Schuester's office door.

Maybe it was her natural nosiness, maybe it was a desire to think of something other than her own problems, whatever it was it made her get up and slip next to the open door that the Lieutenant didn't even bother to close. She knew she shouldn't be anywhere near Sylvester when she was in a mood, which she clearly was, but the temptation was too strong.

Santana had only met Commissioner Figgins a handful of times, the man always struck her as being perpetually tired. His job seemed to exhaust him even though, according to Sylvester, he never did anything of value. She couldn't see him now from her position outside the door, yet she somehow already knew the weary expression that was on his face.

"You've stepped in it now Schuester," Sue said triumphantly.

"William," Figgins said the name like a man telling his son for the thousandth time not to put gum in his hair, "Sue tells me that you still have men on the DelMonico case."

"Yes, I do, just a small detail," he responded simply.

"Four officers is hardly a small detail, and he coaxes two of my best officers into his service to do it!" the Lieutenant snapped.

"How would I have known that, I'd never met either one of them before yesterday!" this time his reply was angry and Santana could tell Sylvester got under his skin like she did everyone else's.

"Calm down both of you, Sue let me handle this. William I allowed you a month to work on this on your own. We do not have the resources or even the evidence to continue to chase after Miss DelMonico. As much as we both know her guilt, we must operate within the law-"

"Within the law Curly-Cue," Sue chimed in unnecessarily.

Figgins paused, she assumed to take a deep calming breath, "I turned a blind eye to you recruiting two officers to help you since it didn't interfere with payroll, and as a reward I come into my office today with her handing me financial reports stating you hired an outside contractor. Do you hear me William? You hired someone outside of the department when we cannot afford the qualified people we have in it!"

She heard Schuester's chair move back and she assumed he was standing, "Yes, I did hire an outside contractor, but what my dear colleague is failing to tell you is that I donated the exact amount of her fee to our department. I merely needed her employment to be on record so I took the roundabout method instead of paying her straight up out of pocket. When I send Terri off to jail, I want every 'i' dotted and every 't' crossed."

That seemed to give the Commissioner pause, and it even took Sue a moment to get riled back up, "That doesn't change the fact that you still have four officers on a case you were told to stop."

"Detectives Nelson and Weston volunteered to help me in their free time and detectives Lopez and Berry are untested in field work, we have no open cases that could use two inexperienced narcos. This is a case I have chosen to help them get accustomed to how we do things. If something comes of it; great, and if they mess up or miss something; no big deal, this whole thing was dead in the water anyway."

"Used to the way you do things?" Sue asked, "and by that you mean working on your off days for what I can only assume is under the table pay? Because I do believe Brody is stupid enough to do this for free, but you can barely get Ricky to do the things he's actually paid to do."

"Both detectives are actually volunteering, Lieutenant. The Commissioner can call me what he likes, but I would like a little bit more formality from you, especially in my office."

"Don't tell me you are going to let him get away with this!" Sylvester snapped, ignoring Will, having apparently become worried with the Commissioners silence.

"I will be watching this case for real progress. If you continue to tread water in your investigation, I will have to insist you put our experienced men back on cases that matter. These late nights, volunteer or not, could be used more productively."

"Mother of god on a mother fucking hockey stick," was the Lieutenants succinct reply as she marched out of the room.

Santana pressed herself against the wall as the other woman passed but she needn't have bothered, Sue couldn't see anything past her own anger. Relieved to have gotten away with her eaves dropping she made to move back to her desk, but then she heard Figgins say something that caught her attention.

"Don't let this chase leave you completely bankrupt, she got enough in the divorce. I say this as a friend, don't let your anger blind you."

Her surprise at this information almost made her forget she wasn't supposed to be outside the door. Luckily she remembered in time to scramble back to her desk right before Figgins walked out looking haggard as always.

"What was that about?" Rachel asked, once Santana was back at her desk.

With a coy look she replied, "Not going to give me a speech about spying on our superiors?"

She shrugged, "I'm tired of having arguments I already know the ending to. So what was that about?"

Leaning forward Santana lowered her voice, "Turns out Figgins doesn't want anyone on this case, and Schue is paying out of pocket for Brittany. Oh, and he was married to our prime suspect."

Her eyebrows went up, "Is that all?"

"No, Sylvester apparently hates him, but, I mean, that's not news, she hates everyone, but Quinn."

"Yeah, good ol' lovable Quinn," the note of sarcasm was not missed.

Once again ignoring a glaring cry for help, Santana pulled the first of many files off the stack that had been waiting and began to fill it out. Rachel let her continue in peace and after the first few pages Santana found herself in a groove of productivity she had rarely experienced, it felt pretty good, she felt good… until she looked over at Rachel's desk and saw she was on the same form as when she started.

Trying to stop the pained groan that wanted to escape she asked, "Alright, look, I know you want to pretend nothing is wrong, but something is wrong, and it's affecting your work, which means it's affecting my work."

"You don't give two fucks about this job," she replied quickly, "You're only here to spend more time with Brittany," as she spoke her tone became more and more bitter, "It'd be nice to be with someone who cared enough to want to spend time with you instead of holing up in her office and acting like she has work when she clearly doesn't."

"So Quinn is ignoring you…?" Santana asked softly trying to get her to just say what the problem is.

"It's embarrassing and I'd rather not talk about it."

"Rachel-"

"Morning ladies," as if called by a magical obnoxious spell, Nelson appeared next to them, "today is a big day for you guys, we get to do some leg work, get out there on the streets, find some stuff out."

Santana sat back and gave her most vicious smile, "Listen Asshat, don't get ahead of yourself and think we are now on speaking terms."

The ginger's pale face flushed to match his hair, "Look here Lopez, I may not be your boss, but I am your senior and as such-"

Santana stood with a glare so murderous he stopped mid sentence, mumbled something about finding Brody and scampered off, "Moron."

She was going to use the opportunity to try and get the truth out of Rachel but found herself enveloped in a hug from behind, she knew immediately from the warmth that surrounded her that it was Brittany.

"Sorry, I was so sleepy this morning," she said with a laugh as she spun Santana around, "It was kind of your fault though."

Santana tried to come up with a reply, but seeing Brittany made her think of their last conversation and it put her at a loss for words. Unfortunately before she could think of anything, Schuester burst out of his office apparently running off a renewed vigor to catch his ex.

"Alright everyone, to the briefing room," he said and walked off pushing rudely past Brody who had just come in.

The handsome man shot the room a questioning glance, from his position at the back of the room Nelson answered, "The Lieutenant from the sixth came in and reamed him again about this assignment."

Brody nodded in understanding and turned to go to what Santana hoped was the briefing room because she decided to just follow him.

As she had hoped, it was and at the front of the room was Schuester, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Santana took a seat flanked on either side by Brittany and Rachel, Nelson sat behind them and Brody posted up by the front of the class.

"Alright we need to get this investigation moving. Berry you and Ms. Pierce will be going to a local school to talk to a few of the students there. Reports have come in about gang activity pertaining specifically to Lazy at McKinley High."

Santana frowned as she took a seat and was about to raise her hand when Rachel sighed, slightly exasperated and leaned over to whisper, "It's this new drug on the streets the kids are smoking, looks like Marijuana acts like PCP except afterwards the person becomes incredibly sluggish for as long as a week due to low blood pressure. A lot of people die due to their heart simply stopping."

It surprised her a little, not that her ever judgmental partner had known she hadn't been paying the least bit of attention to the details that had been discussed the previous day. What was shocking was that she had been willing to share them rather than let Santana ask an embarrassingly elementary question and then smugly reprimand her for it.

Schuester picked up a folder off the front desk and handed it to Rachel, "Here's your persons of interest list. Lopez you are with me, I will be working with you one on one to show you how to properly file case work, and Nelson and Weston I want you back on the paper trail we were on last month, it has to lead somewhere."

Santana looked at him, her mouth hanging open in total shock, "Wait, I'm the only one on this special task force stuck learning how to do rookie shit?!"

If he heard her he gave no sign, instead of responding he dismissed them as if they had the slightest idea of what to do, unfortunately it turned out that everyone besides her did. Brittany moved from where she had been leaned against the wall and gave her a pout, "I really wanted to be paired with you today."

Torn between continued indignance and a biological need to flirt, the latter won out and she resolved to deal with Schuester later. That settled in her mind she turned with a smile and a wink, "We can work that out for later."

Rachel was clearly holding back one of her famous rants about professionalism in the workplace, instead she just grabbed Brittany by the arm and pulled her to the door. Santana gave a small wave and turned to her new boss, suddenly realizing he was the wrong person to pair up with for someone who hadn't bothered to learn the details of the case. They had gone over them the day before, but she had been rather distracted by her need to see Emma.

"So, I'll go ahead and guess that this little job is some sort of hazing or something?"

For someone who had given them the speed brief and dismissed them twice as fast, he seemed to be in no rush to get to work. Weston and Brody gave him a nod as they left and he returned the gesture; only when they were out of the room did he respond, "Can you be relied on to withhold delicate information?"

Her brain made a swift flowchart of meanings that went: Can you withhold delicate information? - Can you keep a secret? - Don't tattle on me, "Sure," she said knowing that at a whim she might change her mind.

"Strictly speaking I'm not supposed to leave the building for things pertaining to this case, not when I'm supposed to be overseeing the department. So I'll have you show me the bar where you saw DelMonico, but we will have to go at lunch."

She was encouraged slightly by this, knowing he hadn't intended to be insulting, then a thought occurred to her, "When do I get to eat lunch?"

"We will have to pick something up on the way," he replied apologetically.

He seemed genuinely sorry, but she was too baffled to care, "Are you serious? What was your plan if I said; No, I'll blab your information all over the place? It's not like you could make me ignore the fact that you seem to have nothing planned for the entirety of the day until my one hour of free time in which you want me to work."

The Deputy looked at her and shrugged, "Then you would learn proper paperwork filing, a skill I already know you know, but from what I learned from your file, you aren't a big fan of that. You seem to like breaking rules and don't mind opposing Sylvester. Given that she seems to have everyone in law enforcement under her thumb, that makes you invaluable, so I took the chance that you would keep this under wraps."

"Did you now?"

"I did."

"Alright, so no busy work now or what? As this is my only case what am I supposed to do until then."

"You could use the time to actually read the case file," he said with a shrug.

Santana felt astounded that he had noticed her inattentiveness, maybe he wasn't as much of an idiot as she thought, "Fair enough," she said as she turned to leave for some last minute studying.

* * *

Somehow, despite the acidic bad mood Rachel had been stuck in, the sight of McKinley still brought back the worst memories of being bullied. It was somewhat startling, she thought she had long ago left those feelings behind, feelings of being somehow less than. Early as it was, the doors were being swarmed with students, boys and girls who look a lot like the people who used to make her life hell. Seeing the cheerleaders walk by in full uniform reminded her of being teased by girls who seemed to have it all and feeling like trash. Girls like these, girls like Quinn…

Even thinking of her girlfriend made a wave of angry heat take her over and determinedly she pushed the thought away and turned to her impromptu partner, "Do you know what we're doing here today?" she asked, not for her own clarification, but because sometimes she felt like Brittany wasn't playing with a full deck.

"Asking questions about drugs," she said simply.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Do you know what this case is even about?"

"My guess is the Deputy is upset his wife left him and wants to turn her in for a crime, even if it's a small one. Turns out it's a big one though."

"Uh…" Rachel blinked in surprise not expecting that level of awareness from the blonde, "Santana told you that was his ex?"

"No, I guessed because he still wears a wedding ring, but has no pictures of his wife in his office and whenever he looked at pictures of her in the briefing he looked really hurt."

She stared again, and felt a little irritated she hadn't made the same connection herself, "Well that was quite the lucky guess."

Brittany laughed, "No silly, a lucky guess is if you make an abduction without any facts," with that she set off up the stairs of the school.

Rachel stood dumbfounded that she had been shown up by someone who apparently knew the meaning, but not pronunciation, of deduction. Seeing that she was being left behind she ran after Brittany, beating her to the door as if their order of entry somehow meant something, "Maybe, but he could have had an ex that was just a regular woman that looked like the suspect."

"Possible, but unlikely," was all she said as she slid inside.

Something in Rachel wanted to argue that point, but she knew she was being petty and decided to drop it. Instead she pulled out the folder and looked at the sparse rap sheet of a few students. Their school schedule was pinned to the top but it was from the beginning of the year and she suspected they had changed. She also suspected most of the teens in her folder had been expelled, "We need to go to the office and see which one of these kids we can actually talk to. Might have to visit some homes…" she said softly, flipping through the pages.

Looking up she located a sign pointing her to where she wanted to go, but the moment she took a step forward someone grabbed her by the collar. Annoyed she spun to see Brittany looking sheepishly at her.

"What?" she snapped, feeling like an adult having to unexpectedly take a child to work.

"I don't want to make you mad, but I'm really good at this, you should let me lead."

Once again Rachel could only stare in disbelief, "What?" she repeated.

"I was hired to solve this case and I'm sure I can, just let me lead."

"Lead what?" Rachel asked trying not think of the word 'lead' while staring at her unprofessional choice in clothing, sure the pants and shirt were tailored, but the color scheme brought to mind the term 'Unicorn Vomit'.

"The mission," she responded, while having the nerve to look at Rachel like she might be slow.

"This isn't a mission, we are just asking some questions."

"It is a mission and you should let me lead."

There was a part of Rachel that was done delaying, that had a plan worked out and fully intended to see it through one way or another. She was a person who was quite used to getting her way, and knew how to annoy people into letting her do as she pleased. On the other hand, with the way things were at home, she was simply tired of fighting about little things.

From what she understood, this was all a lost cause anyway, and the odds weren't great on a New York street gang giving up valuable information because a couple of cops asked for it. Even as they stood in the crowded halls she could see the students giving them a wide birth, as if being seen walking too close to them was bad for their reputation.

"Fuck it," she said and handed Brittany the folder.

A bright smile lit the blonde's face, "Awesome," she said as she took the folder and threw it into a nearby trashcan.

The perfectionist in Rachel recoiled at the idea of throwing away something a superior had given her to study, but the new carefree Rachel just sighed and moved aside for her to head to the office. However, Brittany didn't go that way, she turned and began to wander the halls.

Wondering what the Deputy would say if they got thrown out of the school, Rachel followed, still ignoring her inner self that wanted to stop her colleague and explain everything wrong with what they were doing.

They walked around for a few minutes before the bell rang and the students entered their classrooms, pouring out of the halls like water. Soon they were alone and Rachel was more uncomfortable than ever, she thought about saying something, but somehow she knew whatever it was she wanted to achieve by speaking was pointless. So instead she tried to look as official as possible in her street clothes and adjusted the badge around her neck to try and make it more prominent.

Brittany for her part seemed nonplussed, she walked from classroom to classroom observing them from the small window in the door. At each one she stopped in she seemed to be looking attentively for something and after a beat, having not found what she was looking for, she would seem disappointed and move on.

Ten classrooms later Rachel was on the cusp of voicing her concerns, effectiveness be damned, when Brittany, for no reason she could see, knocked on the door of a classroom they had stopped in front of.

The door swung open and Rachel could see inside to what she assumed was a Chemistry class, and right before her was a small, frazzled looking woman.

"Yes?" the woman asked, looking as surprised as Rachel was to be face to face.

"Hello Ma'am we are with the LAPD, Narcotics division," she said indicating Rachel's badge, reflexively she raised it up, "we need to interview a couple of your students about an incident."

The woman blinked slowly, "Uh… um… alright…"

Brittany took a step inside the class and Rachel noticed something odd, as much as the taller woman could be a ditz she always seemed normal enough until she spoke. Upon stepping into the classroom the mannerism she adopted was downright juvenile. It was like watching her turn into the type of airheaded, bubbly cheerleaders she used to loathe back when she was a prisoner of higher learning. It wasn't a major change, as a matter of fact it was so subtle it was alarming, but the change was there.

"Hi, everyone," she said in a sugar sweet voice, "I need to talk to a couple of you about some gang activity in the area."

Rachel had to fight not to throw her hands up in the air in frustration. Why announce that? Who in their right mind would talk to them now? Then Brittany compounded this by walking up to the most innocent, virginal nerd she had ever seen in her life and looking him over with what she was positive was a flirtatious gaze. Shocked, she was about to say something, then the blonde moved past him and knelt next to a boy that reminded Rachel so much of Puck, he could have been his brother.

"Hey, you seem like you'd know a thing or two, would you come with me?"

That single question made the room explode into meaningful 'Ooo's' from the class, a response that had most of the girls looking mutinous, the boys looking envious and the teacher scrambling to reclaim order.

The teen smiled back at her and gave a lascivious look that was so much like Puck she did a double take, "I'll go anywhere with you."

Though this exchange set the class off again in all the usual ways, the boy Brittany had seemed to be interested in earlier stood up to a rather unimpressive height.

"That cretin doesn't know anything!"

Brittany turned to the boy looking like someone being offered a competing price from a street vendor, "You do?" she asked with breathy interest.

"Yeah, but I don't have to tell you anything," he said, seeming to realize how foolish it was to declare that he knew something about illegal activities to the police.

"Oh," she said looking dejected, and turned to the other boy, "You'll tell me something won't you?"

He gave her a Puckerman style eyebrow wiggle, "I'll tell you all kinds of things."

Standing and smiling brightly Brittany walked to the door already sure he would follow. Rachel watched as he stood laughing shamelessly to his friends as he passed and making rude gestures. Once again the whole class was caught up in the scandal, and the smaller boy looked enraged, this time though, Rachel was pulled from her observation by Brittany saying, "Bring the little one too," as she passed.

Rachel would have questioned it normally, but decided to see what Brittany's idea of interrogation was. It probably involved a card game no doubt.

With a sigh she walked up to the small boy, "What's your name son?"

"Myron," he said with more pride than his name deserved.

"Alright Myron come with me, we need to ask you some questions."

This wasn't met with the same excitement as Brittany's proposal, but nonetheless he seemed genuinely pleased to be considered worth interrogating.

As if to make a point to the class as he left he warned loudly that she wouldn't get any information from him.

She didn't doubt it either.

What they were doing was already bordering on illegal, if this was to be used in a criminal investigation case then the boys would need to have their parents notified and after that would probably lawyer up. That was the response at all but the most impoverished inner city schools in which gang members just plain didn't talk to police, period.

Brittany lead the boys down the hall to the library, which was empty save for a lone librarian sorting books. Once again Brittany changed ever so slightly, her mannerisms weren't as airy but she wasn't quite serious either. She simply came off hesitant and slightly nervous, when she approached the woman at the desk she seemed too shy to speak up and make herself heard.

Gently she tapped the woman on the shoulder and when she turned Rachel saw the definition of sternness on the librarians face. This woman was not there to play games. Brittany, however, was unaffected.

"Hello Ma'am, these boys are to be questioned regarding their possible connection to local gangs. Do you have a private room? We need somewhere less public than the front office, I can't risk their safety should someone find out they have spoken to us."

The woman regarded the two boys, both who seemed to be having a silent amusing debate with each other, the topic of which wasn't hard to guess. They hadn't noticed her change in demeanor and she was sure that if they weren't holding a silent, pointless pissing contest they still wouldn't have.

Despite how easily debunked the story was, the gravity of possible harm coming to the students seemed to prompt the stern librarian to save her questions for later. Instead of inquiring where any other member of the faculty was in this police investigation she nodded.

"You may use those back rooms there," she said pointing, "They are used for viewing movies, they have a shutter that can be closed to block out light and are mostly soundproof."

"Excellent," Brittany replied, looking at the doors at the far end, "and those shutters they open from the outside?"

The woman looked offended by the question, "Of course, I must make sure the students use the room for… its intended purpose."

She nodded in thought, "I see. You also said it was mostly sound proof. Can you do the school an enormous service and stand guard at the door? Make sure no one enters? All it will take is one person to see the wrong thing and these children could be at serious risk."

Talk of such danger seemed to have finally broken through to the young boys and suddenly they were more serious, but they didn't get much time to think about it.

The librarian nodded immediately and said, "Absolutely," as if it had been insulting that it even be a question as to whether or not she would stand guard.

As she left Brittany escorted the boys to the rooms and split them up, sending the smaller boy in one room and then stepping into the other with the second boy and Rachel.

Once again she considered questioning leaving a suspect alone in a room, but by that point she wanted to see where all this was going.

The room was rather cramped and dark, a space clearly meant for about two people to sit at a desk and take notes. There was a television mounted in the corner and two chairs by one small table. Brittany sat in one and patted the other, inviting the handsome boy to sit down while Rachel stayed posted by the door.

His trepidation from moments before melted away and his confident Puck-like smile returned, he sat down and gave Brittany a wink. One she returned with a grin and Rachel noticed that Brittany had fully returned to her earlier persona.

"So what's your name?"

"Jake," he said in a sly manner, "What's yours?"

"Bella," she said without missing a beat, Rachel tried not to gawk.

He laughed looked her up and down, "You know you don't look like a Bella."

"And you don't look like a Jake," she said, her eyes dancing.

That seemed to surprise him, but he cleared his throat, "I think you're hot and I would show you an amazing night out if you wanna come up off them digits."

"Thanks Jake, but I have a girlfriend," she said, her smile never faltering.

In return his widened, "Just so you know she's welcome to come too."

"I don't think you want that as much as you think you do," Brittany giggled.

He shrugged, "Had to try, ya know, before you realized I don't know jack shit about gang stuff around here."

"Do you know about drugs?"

"More than you probably."

"Where is everybody getting Lazy from?"

That seemed to make him genuinely laugh, "And you ask about the one I don't fuck with. I don't know, that shit is fuckin' wild. I've seen what it does to people and that's not a ride I want to take. Dope, weed, uppers, downers, and the like? For a price I can help you out, that Lazy shit? Nope."

Brittany nodded, "Smart of you. You know, 'cept for all the other drugs. Well that's all, thanks for your time."

For the second time that day someone was just as lost as Rachel at the exact same time, "Really? That's it? Not gonna ask anything else."

"We're done here, but thanks, you have been a big help."

He looked at her a moment longer and shrugged, "Tell your girl I'm always around and both of you are more than welcome in my bed."

Rachel didn't realize she was sneering in disgust until he was already gone. Once the door closed she found herself unable to contain her questions any longer, "Brittany what in the hell are we doing?"

"Cracking the case?" she asked back, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"You are aware that Jake just told you nothing of value."

"Not true."

"How?!"

Brittany looked annoyed, "Rachel I really don't have time to explain it to you right now, I have to question the other boy."

Indignation didn't even begin to cover the feeling that swelled in Rachel, but Brittany turned and marched in the other room leaving the shorter woman scrambling to catch up to her.

Fuming, she once more took a spot by the door and gritted her teeth while Brittany sat across from the small teen.

"Hi," she said in the same sweet tone she had used with Jake.

"Hello," the boy said warily, suddenly realizing what it meant to be in a room alone with police after confessing knowledge of criminal activity.

"What's your name?" Brittany asked.

Her voice seemed to calm the mousy teen and he straightened his small body in the large chair, "Myron, I already told her that," he said haughtily, pointing to Rachel.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you say it more than once."

In classic Brittany fashion it was impossible to determine if that statement was innocent or insulting. Myron seemed to have the same problem so he only nodded forgiveness, "It's a family name."

Rachel almost laughed at the pitying look she gave him, "I see, so Myron, why don't you tell me what you know about people buying and selling Lazy at the school."

Clearly he felt far more in control now that he seemed sure the woman talking to him was as weak as her tone, "I already told you I'm not telling you anything."

Brittany smiled, "I think you are."

"No, I'm really not. You can talk to my lawyer and he'll talk to my mom and she'll talk to me and the only answer you are going to get through them is; fuck off."

Rachel was tempted to ask why he even bothered to say anything if he didn't want to be bothered but Brittany was already moving on. She stood and slowly walked around the table to his chair, upon reaching him she knelt by his side and put her hand gently on his.

"For me?"

"Don't think you can sweet talk me, if you wanna do something else…" he hinted, though with none of the effortlessness Jake had shown. If anything his advance was clumsy, uninformed and rehearsed. Rachel doubted that he'd ever even talked to a girl that way before let alone a woman.

Brittany patted his hand, "What did you have in mind?"

Rachel winced, knowing this was about to get crass.

Myron seemed surprised by her easy acceptance, and his face turned a deep red as his mind filled with the possibilities, "Um…"

"How about some rough stuff?" Brittany asked, and right as Rachel was about to step in Brittany stood, yanking the boy out of his chair by his hand and slammed the back of her wrist into his kidney.

Myron yelped with pain before he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor gasping desperately for air, "Brittany!" Rachel shouted in shock and alarm, her hand reflexively going for her gun.

The blonde shot her a look that froze her in her tracks, she wasn't sure why but everything in her was warning her not to interfere.

Still gulping for air Myron tried to stand, but Brittany kicked his feet out from under him and he fell to the ground again, "If you want to get out of this room, you're going to have to tell me something I want to hear."

"I don't know anything," the boy cried holding his wounded side.

"That's not what you said."

"I was kidding!"

"I'm not laughing, so now you have to come up with something I believe so I will stop hurting you," she said before she lifted him by the opposite hand and caught him in the liver with the same backhand strike.

This time when he hit the floor it was to a fit of dry heaves, Rachel felt her hands move, desperate to draw her gun, but she stopped herself for reasons she could only register as a combination of fear and disbelief. Deciding that diffusion might be a better option she raised a calming hand, "Brittany maybe he doesn't know anything," she said softly, trying to reach her.

Brittany's face was completely placid, she observed the boy as he gagged, coughed and choked without so much as an ounce of pity crossing her features.

"Think of anything or is it time for the other kidney? And I promise you will piss yourself on this one."

"There are a bunch of people selling at this school, we all get it from the P.E. coach!" he squealed seeing her take a step closer.

As if he hadn't said anything Brittany grabbed his wrist and pulled it behind his back twisting, "Jake already told me that, tell me something I don't know."

Rachel wished very badly she had brought her taser as she finally pulled her gun, "Brittany-" this time she was cut off with a look, but it wasn't mean or stern, it was calming. Brittany silently motioned for her to lower her gun, and the brunette understood that she was trying to communicate that she hadn't lost her mind. Though not completely convinced, Rachel decided to let her finish her torture session rather than have to deal with shooting the official narco case consultant on her second day on the job. Nevermind what Santana would do. So far nothing was irreparable, and if the boy could get home in tact that was a win.

Deciding to look at it more like a hostage situation she holstered her gun again, but kept her hand on the butt.

"Our Coach is Ken Tanaka and he buys Lazy from some old lady that works at the Sugar Shack!"

"I already know this Myron," Brittany said in a bored tone.

"I don't know her name, but I know the coach picks it up every Thursday at eight at night! He usually has me count the money and drugs after because he's shit at math!"

Brittany let his arm go, "Was that so hard?"

Tears streaming down his face he stood cradling his wrist, "I'm going to tell my mom about this, then you'll be in trouble."

Rachel didn't disagree, but Brittany shrugged, "Tell your mom? And then you sue and everyone finds out you were beaten up by a dizzy blonde? Anyway it's your word against ours since there aren't cameras in here. So go ahead."

He glared fitfully before running to the door past Rachel and out into the library.

The child safely out of her reach Rachel spun on Brittany, "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"No."

"Stop that! Stop acting like you don't know how fucked that was!"

"We needed to solve the case-"

"No! You do not torture children to find drug dealers!"

Brittany closed her eyes slowly at the shrillness of Rachel's voice, "That wasn't torture, that was bullying and he is a drug dealer didn't you hear what he said?"

"I did, but he's just a child!"

"I don't really want to fight about kids being innocent, but he isn't. He sells drugs to other kids and he does it for money to buy things to brag about. Torture is water surfing or stuff under your nails, I didn't torture him. The stuff he sells has killed actually innocent kids, I think that's worth a couple of hits and a twisted arm, and I hit him just right so there wont even be a bruise."

"It doesn't matter! We are the police! Children are supposed to trust us over all others to uphold their rights!"

Brittany shrugged, "I'm not police."

"It doesn't matter!"

"I think it does-"

"You beat up a child on a hunch! This information is inadmissible in court at best and grounds for a few years in prison at worst."

"Never planned to take it to court. In the CIA when we needed to find someone who was running from us and using the law against us, we just got the information we needed however we wanted and caught them doing bad things. When the judge asked how we knew where to look we just said it was a mystery source."

"I think I know more about how our government works than I ever wanted," she sighed rubbing her head, "And what happens to us after he tells someone? I'm complicit in this shit since I didn't stop you!"

Brittany wrinkled her nose, "I don't know about all of that, but he won't tell. I'm sure of it."

"How can you know that? Hell how can you trust a damn thing he said since people under duress will say anything to get free!"

There was a moment where Brittany seemed to be thinking hard before she came to the conclusion, "It really would take a long time to tell you. I'll try, but it'll have to be in the car cause we need to get back."

"Why?"

"We just do," she said cryptically and left.

Rachel went after her, determined to hear a good reason for what she witnessed, even though a small part of her saw the logic to it. Seem harmless to the class, establish what she wanted and through Jake look like a complete pushover. Then when the small boy with a chip on his shoulder comes back he will be hard pressed to tell all those boys who probably already give him shit that the airhead with the technicolor dream suit had him crying on the floor. Especially after the story Jake would have come back with. But it was all conjecture, there was no reason to treat these things as fact.

Feeling all kinds of ways about what went down in the library, Rachel followed Brittany to the car and managed to hold her tongue, up until the passenger door shut.

"Okay, you need to explain yourself because right now I am seriously contemplating arresting you myself."

Brittany frowned, "For what?"

"For wha…" Rachel fell short, her head hurting from the effort of trying not to scream, instead she took a deep, calming breath. "Did you hear anything I said earlier?"

"Yes. Did you hear anything I said earlier?" she asked, looking genuinely curious.

"Brittany this isn't the CIA, I don't know why you were allowed to behave that way, but it isn't acceptable, at all, the ends does not justify the means," when she only got a blank stare in reply she sighed, "You can't do bad things for a good cause."

"I see what you're saying, you think I should never hit a child."

"Or lie, or question them without their parents- fuck we broke a lot of laws."

"Yeah, but I don't really think you think that. You could have stopped me at any point, but you didn't."

Rachel let her head hit the steering wheel hard, "and that makes me a bad person and a worse detective."

"Or a really good one. I bet there is a kid somewhere that gets to live another day because of what we did."

Anger flared within the smaller woman, she didn't know why this was making her so incredibly angry. Beyond the breach of protocol and beyond the assault, something about Brittany's attitude was making her furious, "You don't know that! You can't know that and it still doesn't make it right!"

She merely sighed and shrugged, "I got the answers we needed about this case, and I wasn't hitting people on a hunch. I never would, I'm always sure."

"Like you were with Savoy? And Quinn?!"

"Savoy was a bad guy, and I wanted to kill Quinn based off of the kind of proof you are looking for not my gut feeling."

Rachel wanted to say something back but couldn't. The assumption had always been that Brittany was a clueless, lucky, bubbly person who just wandered around doing whatever and hoping for the best. For the first time Rachel suspected the blonde was far smarter than she was letting on.

* * *

Hey sorry for the delay, can't promise to be super snappy with the rest of this story, but I can promise it's my #1 priority to finish. I have about three other stories I am working on and I'm putting them all on hiatus to finish this one cause you guys have been crazy patient x|


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